


Emergency Operation

by Tarlan



Series: Emergency Colors [7]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Community: fanfic100, Drama, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-01
Updated: 2008-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney's stomach ache turns out to be a whole lot worse than anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Operation

**Author's Note:**

> _Fanfic100_ prompt 083. Agony.

It started with a stomach ache before settling into a dull ache low on his right side late at night after a midnight snack in what passed for a cafeteria in the structure built above the entrance to the Antarctic outpost. Rodney knew he shouldn't have had the over-cooked vegetables as they had never agreed with him at the best of times and he tried rubbing his abdomen to shift the trapped wind only for the pain to increase tenfold. He should have stuck to his usual midnight feast of pastries and coffee from the small area sectioned off in the outpost below but he'd missed a hot dinner earlier when he'd had a minor breakthrough on his research.

The elevator back down was not the smoothest ride and every little jerk made his stomach throb painfully, making him feel nauseous; he barely managed to swallow back the bile that burned the back of his throat as the elevator shuddered at the halfway point.

He was so glad when the elevator reached bottom, the door opening so he could make his way towards the room where he'd taken to sleeping. For once he had no complaint about the cold in the outpost as heat poured from his body, leaving the stickiness of sweat on his forehead. Out of habit, he paused by Jack O'Neill's stasis chamber, running a professional eye over the control panel to verify that all was well.

Another cramp had him doubling over in agony, breath hissing between his teeth. He rode out the pain and then straightened a fraction, hitching his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his room as he looked back up at Jack's frozen face.

"I need to go now," he stated tightly.

He entered his room slowly, heading straight for the barely civilized toilet facilities in the corner as his stomach cramped again, the pain intensifying.

Perhaps it wasn't trapped wind after all. Perhaps the US military had finally succeeded in its covert attempt to kill him through food poisoning after years of attempting to murder him with citrus hidden in every meal. Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly hidden but the menu was usually Lemon Chicken or nothing, and death by starvation was still death.

By the time he had used the almost primitive facilities, Rodney only had the energy left to crawl to his bed. He grunted in agony as he removed his orange fleece, the pull on his abdomen adding new depths of pain, and gave small thanks that he could kick off his shoes and slide off his pants with the minimum amount of movement.

Rodney curled up on his side in his cot, moaning as another wave of pain passed through him, still centered low on his right side.

"Sleep," he whispered, trying to convince himself. "All I need is sleep and everything will be fine in the morning."

****

Daniel watched the helicopter recede into the distance, its lights swiftly disappearing into the darkness, aware that he ought to have waited until morning but there was a weather front closing in that could easily turn their way and cut off the outpost for days, and Daniel hated the thought of being stuck in McMurdo for days when he could be here with Jack. He smiled as he hoisted his backpack onto one shoulder, already anticipating Rodney's reaction to seeing him back far sooner than the months they had both expected, though he wished he could stay for longer just so he could be close to Jack. With the Goa'uld still fighting amongst themselves as they divided up the former worlds and possessions of Anubis, what remained of SG-1 had gained a small breather, enough for Sam and Teal'c to locate a means of traveling to the Asgard galaxy so she could ask them to help Jack. Daniel was certain an answer would also lie in the Ancient database, it was just a matter of finding the correct key to access that particular set of data, something that had eluded him so far.

Still, every time he looked through the database he discovered something new so it was never a waste of time even if it did not bring him the data he desperately wanted to find.

Before heading towards the Chair, as that was where he expected to find Rodney even at this time of night, Daniel stopped beside Jack's stasis chamber, unable to resist reaching out to caress the edge of the force field directly above Jack's cheek.

"I'm still looking for an answer," he murmured. "I'll figure it out soon, or Sam will...or Rodney. Rodney's made you a side project."

The sound of booted footsteps warned him of an approaching sentry so Daniel pressed his hand against the force field one last time and walked away, stepping beneath the archway that led into the Chair room only to find it empty. The booted footsteps drew closer and Daniel turned to find the sentry watching him warily as he continued on his rounds.

"Sergeant?"

The soldier stopped. "Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel felt both of his eyebrows rise in surprise, though it shouldn't have come as a shock that he was so easily recognized within the Stargate program. He'd worked with dozens of teams off-world over the past years since Abydos, and had spent several weeks here in research too since its discovery.

"I was...looking for Dr. McKay."

The soldier gave one of those twisted little pained looks that always accompanied hearing Rodney's name, and Daniel almost shook his head and sighed at how quickly Rodney made a bad impression on those unprepared to see beneath the arrogance to the shy and generous man beneath.

"I saw Dr. McKay entering his room about an hour ago, sir."

"Thanks."

The soldier moved on leaving Daniel in a quandary. The last time he had slipped into Rodney's room in the middle of the night, he had been so desperate for comfort, and Rodney had welcomed him with open arms, holding him close and letting him make love to him with no strings attached. Daniel had stayed until morning, wrapped in warm arms that took some of the chill of loneliness from his soul. As much as the thought of sliding back into those strong arms appealed, it wasn't fair to Rodney to keep using him as a surrogate for what Daniel truly wanted - Jack.

While he mulled it over, his feet took him to Rodney's door unconsciously, and it took only a pang of temptation to have him looking inside to see if Rodney was actually sleeping or merely working in the quiet of his room. The light was still on but the room smelled...off, and Rodney was huddled on the bed, whimpering softly. With concern, Daniel moved to the side of the bed and crouched down until he was level with Rodney, feeling the heat radiating from his skin almost immediately.

"Rodney?"

Pain-filled eyes opened a slit within the pale, drawn features. "Daniel? Hurts."

"It's okay...I'm going to call for help. I'll be back in seconds."

Daniel moved swiftly to the door and gazed along the corridor frantically, freezing when he saw the same soldier turn the far corner.

"Sergeant! Medical emergency in Dr. McKay's room."

He waited long enough to see the soldier talking into his radio before rushing back to Rodney's side and cupping his hot and sweaty face.

"Help's on the way."

Three soldiers burst into the room but Daniel recognized the insignia of the medical corps and stood aside, jaw tense as he listened to Rodney's vague answers to questions and his weak cries when one of them pressed his side. He recognized the symptoms immediately, having suffered the same condition several years earlier.

"Is it his appendix?"

The medic looked around. "Yes...and it needs to come out but we don't have a surgeon here at the outpost."

"McMurdo?"

"Dr. Beckett is scheduled to fly here in a few days, once he's completed his basic survival training at McMurdo."

"So he's already at McMurdo?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, but it could take a couple of hours of get a helo out here to pick up Dr. McKay and return to McMurdo."

"And less time if you simply put Beckett on the helicopter and brought him here."

"He's not yet cleared--"

"And McKay could be dead in a couple of hours. Now if you want me to take this to General Hammond, I will."

The medic nodded tightly, obviously seeing the determination in Daniel's eyes and knowing he meant every word, He looked to the sergeant who was hovering by the door. "Tell them to put Dr. Beckett on a helo and get him here asap." The medic turned back to Daniel as the soldier starting passing on the order. "I don't want to move him but we don't have much choice. We don't have clean facilities down here but we do have a field operating theater up top."

Daniel nodded grimly and watched as the medic put in an IV and injected the line; some of the pain eased from Rodney's face.

"I can't give him much because he could be under the knife within the hour, but it'll make the move slightly easier on him."

****

Carson startled awake as someone burst through his door.

"Dr. Beckett, get dressed. We have an emergency at the outpost. Leave your belongings. Someone will gather them up and bring them on later."

Carson was already up and halfway into his clothes by the time the man had reached the end of his sentence; a result of the conditioning of too many years spent in an Accident and Emergency department before specializing in both general surgery and, more recently, genetics. It was his work in the field of genetics that had brought him to the very bottom of the world but, as he listened carefully to the diagnosis, he knew they needed his surgical skills more at this moment.

It was freezing and dark outside, and a relief to get out of the biting wind and into the helicopter. He took a moment to ponder on why all pilots seemed to be good looking and rakish, wondering if it was something in their genes, before his pilot pulled a helmet over his dark, messy hair and tapped for Carson to do the same.

"Doc, I hear we have an emergency operation for you," the pilot stated, his voice echoing through the communications unit.

"Aye, you could say that, son." He tightened his grip as the helicopter was buffeted heavily as it took off. "Are you sure it's safe to fly in this weather at night?"

The pilot gave him a cocky grin. "We'll be fine, Doc."

Carson didn't get to speak to the pilot again, except to offer a quick thanks over forty minutes later, just before jumping out and being led into the interior of a US military research center. He'd spent the entire trip listening to vitals on his patient and hearing his patient's medical history, making decisions that would have the operating theater and his patient prepped for him by the time he arrived. Perversely, it kept his mind off of the fact that this was no smooth ride like the one that had brought him to McMurdo. Carson had a feeling that the military had given him their best pilot for this terrible night, thus emphasizing the importance of his patient who was listed as the chief scientist at the research station.

Within fifteen minutes of landing, Carson was washed and scrubbed up ready, backing through the makeshift door that sealed the operating theater off from the rest of the less clean facilities at the research station. His patient was on the table, and he nodded his thanks to the medics and nurses present, taking the time to study McKay's face as his patient was put under general anesthetic. It was a habit he'd taken to, recalling the lectures from the chief surgeon during his internship; a habit to remind him that this was a real person and not a slab of meat on the dinner table.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen. Let's get this nasty appendix out."

Carson barely noticed the passing time as he made the first incision and began to work on his patient, only stepping back once he had the swollen appendix in a kidney dish and a neat row of tiny sutures closing the incision. He rolled his neck from side to side as he returned to the changing area and pulled off the bloodied gloves and his surgical gown and mask, dropping both into the relevant medical waste basket before washing up and stepping outside.

"Dr. Beckett?"

Carson blinked when a man with light brown hair and blue eyes, dressed in a charcoal fleece, stood up and approached.

"Yes? How can I help you?"

"Your patient, Dr. McKay... How is he?"

Normally, Carson wouldn't offer any news concerning a patient until he was certain the person was a next of kin but he knew it was different here. It was unlikely that Rodney McKay had any kin down here to ask of his condition, only friends and colleagues.

"He came through the surgery fine. He just needs to rest now."

The man's relief was palpable, eyes closing in gratitude. "Thank you." The man started to turn away but then looked back, offering his hand. "By the way, I'm Daniel Jackson."

Over the days, months and years that followed, Rodney McKay proved to be one of the worst patients Carson had ever had to deal with -- and also one of his best friends, and so did a certain messy-haired helicopter pilot.

END


End file.
